As she said this, she fixed her eyes once more on the maid.

“Oh! don’t ye now, Miss,” interrupted Jane.  “Hannah do say as how a whitey-blue light shines in the window of a dark night, sometimes —­ that lady’s window, you know, Miss.  Don’t ye open the door —­ pray, Miss.”

Jane seemed on the point of falling into the same terror as before.

“Really, Jane,” said her mistress, “I am ashamed of you; and of myself, for having such silly servants about me.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss, but —­”

“So Mr. Sutherland and I must give up our plan of going over the house, because my maid’s nerves are too delicate to permit her to accompany us.  For shame!”

“Oh, do ye now go without me!” cried the girl, clasping her hands.

“And you will wait here till we come back?”

“Oh! don’t ye leave me here.  Just show me the way out.”

And once more she turned pale as death.

“Mr. Sutherland, I am very sorry, but we must put off the rest of our ramble till another time.  I am, like Hamlet, very vilely attended, as you see.  Come, then, you foolish girl,” she added, more mildly.

The poor maid, what with terror of Lady Euphrasia, and respect for her mistress, was in a pitiable condition of moral helplessness.  She seemed almost too frightened to walk behind them.  But if she had been in front it would have been no better; for, like other ghost-fearers, she seemed to feel very painfully that she had no eyes in her back.

They returned as they came; and Jane receiving the keys to take to the housekeeper, darted away.  When she reached Mrs. Horton’s room, she sank on a chair in hysterics.

“I must get rid of that girl, I fear,” said Miss Cameron, leading the way to the library; “she will infect the whole household with her foolish terrors.  We shall not hear the last of this for some time to come.  We had a fit of it the same year I came; and I suppose the time has come round for another attack of the same epidemic.”

“What is there about the room to terrify the poor thing?”

“Oh! they say it is haunted; that is all.  Was there ever an old house anywhere over Europe, especially an old family house, but was said to be haunted?  Here the story centres in that room —­ or at least in that room and the avenue in front of its windows.”

“Is that the avenue called the Ghost’s Walk?”

“Yes.  Who told you?”

“Harry would not let me cross it.”

“Poor boy!  This is really too bad.  He cannot stand anything of that kind, I am sure.  Those servants!”

“Oh!  I hope we shall soon get him too well to be frightened at anything.  Are these places said to be haunted by any particular ghost?”

“Yes.  By Lady Euphrasia —­ Rubbish!”

Had Hugh possessed a yet keener perception of resemblance, he would have seen that the phantom-likeness which haunted him in the portrait of Euphrasia Halkar, was that of Euphrasia Cameron —­ by his side all the time.  But the mere difference of complexion was sufficient to throw him out —­ insignificant difference as that is, beside the correspondence of features and their relations.  Euphra herself was perfectly aware of the likeness, but had no wish that Hugh should discover it.